


Better Days Ahead

by singswithtrees



Category: Mad Max Series (Movies)
Genre: Dude Miss Giddy would make an awesome Vuvalini, Gen, Miss Giddy Lives, The Splendid Angharad Lives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-09
Updated: 2018-05-09
Packaged: 2019-05-04 12:07:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14592699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/singswithtrees/pseuds/singswithtrees
Summary: Miss Giddy lives, and frustrates the Vuvalini who's tending her because she has Places to Go and Things to Do.This is my very first piece for an exchange.  I hope you enjoy it! :)





	Better Days Ahead

**Author's Note:**

  * For [supergirrl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/supergirrl/gifts).



Miss Giddy was very disappointed in the afterlife. The tales she’d been read as a small child, when stories were written on paper and not on your skin, had promised an end to the hurts and aches of life. She’d only been here for a few minutes, but so far, her arthritis was anything but gone, and each cut and bruise inflicted by the Joe’s hoodlums ached, fresh and angry. It stank of blood and engine grease and unwashed bodies, and as she sat up and swung her legs over the edge of the cot, she winced as the worst headache she’d had in years hit. That felt pretty damned alive, though how she’d managed it, she wasn’t sure.

Wincing at the pain that throbbed in her temples, she couldn’t help but jump when a steady hand touched her shoulder. “You had a close call out there,” said an unfamiliar voice, as a second hand pressed a warm, damp cloth to her forehead. Miss Giddy opened her eyes and tilted her head up in curiosity. Not only was this a stranger, it was a woman, and one closer to her own age than to the Sisters, from the rasp of the voice.

“There’s too much rust about for this to be any sort of Heaven, however you look at it,” she said with a small grin. 

This got her a chuckle from the other woman. “Too much sand, too, for that matter. Here, now, just hold that to your head, and don’t try to stand just yet.” She was taller than Giddy, though from this perspective, anyone was gigantic. Still covered with the dirt and grime of battle, she was nonetheless a sight for sore eyes, and she smiled gently as she sat down next to the history woman. “It’s Giddy, right? We’ll get you patched up again, no worries.”

“It’s not that I’m not grateful for the care, don’t think that. But my girls, are they here?” Her voice dropped to almost a whisper. “Is he?”

Her companion made a face of disgust, turned to the side, and spat on the ground. “The warlord’s dead,” she replied. “Our Furiosa made sure of that. As for the girls...they’re about. Just busy right now, what with the impromptu revolution and all. They’re well and whole, all of them.”

“All of them? Are you sure?” She didn’t dare hope. Hope was a mistake where anything with the Immortan was concerned.

The silence before the reply arrived was long and ominous. But at last, the other woman cracked a smile. “All of them,” she said, taking Giddy’s hand and guiding it to the cloth in order to free her own hand. “Even the one who was left for the crows with you, though she’s still far from awake. Annie says she’ll sleep at least another day, but your Angharad is here with us and with her sisters, safe and sound.”

Tears welled up and stung her eyes, threatening to begin coursing down her cheeks. Any time before now, she would have blinked them back, so as to be stoic in the face of Joe’s guards. She’d promised herself years ago that whatever else they might do to her, they’d never get the satisfaction of seeing her cry. She kept herself hard and made of stone so that some softness might remain to the younger women. But with Joe was good and dead, she allowed the tears to come, streaming down her face as she laughed and sobbed at the same time. They’d done it, even if she wasn’t certain just how in the hell that had worked out. She laughed brokenly until her sides ached, and her new companion held her shaking hand.

“Name’s Weaver,” the other woman said as she gave Giddy’s hand a squeeze. “Adrenaline’s hitting you pretty hard and fast. How’s the pain?”

Miss Giddy stopped to think as Weaver’s words cut through the haze of her crying. “No worse than it was when I woke up yet. I know better than to think it’s going to stay that way.”

Weaver nodded. “You’re going to have one hell of an everything ache before you’ve healed, sorry to say. Let me check something real quick, though.” She released Giddy’s hand, and began poking at and shaking each of several small pockets and pouches on her belt and vest until one of them gave an intriguing rattle. The sound was familiar to Miss Giddy, though not a sound that she’d heard for many, many decades. It was a pill bottle, and from the size of the pouch that contained it, there was more than one bottle of precious medicine. Weaver’s nimble fingers opened the pouch, and pulled out a dirty white plastic bottle. Miss Giddy had to squint to read the barely legible words on the faded label, and she gasped at what it said. Aspirin.

“Now, don’t ask where we got it. Some things should stay a secret, at least for the time being.” She placed two small tablets into Miss Giddy’s trembling hand. “Need water?”

Miss Giddy had already swallowed both of the pills. The sour aftertaste was almost welcome. She’d never imagined that she would taste it again. It was only her imagination, but she could swear that she felt the pain begin to drift away even before the aspirin was in her mouth. “One step ahead of you. And speaking of steps…” She shifted her weight forward, onto the balls of her feet, the intent to walk quite plain.

Weaver made a disapproving noise, but stood first. She offered her arm as something steady to hold onto. “If your head starts spinning, I’m bringing you right back to the cot, and no arguing.” Miss Giddy accepted, even as she scoffed at the concern. 

She could rest later. Some things were more important. One small step forward, then another. She gave the Vuvalini’s arm a grateful squeeze. “No arguing, of course not. What kind of example would that set for the girls?”

“A strong one. One they’ve followed halfway to the Salt and back. One we’re grateful to still have with us among the quick.” They were almost to the door, and the sunlight poured through the cracks. Miss Giddy thought that it had never looked so good. “Now, if you’re still steady, I think there’s a few folks out here waiting to see you.”


End file.
